


All We Do, All We Do (Is Hide Away)

by CongratulationsBaby



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29616393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongratulationsBaby/pseuds/CongratulationsBaby
Summary: Set during 3x08, Bea becomes the catalyst for the all-important kitchen conversation.
Relationships: Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	All We Do, All We Do (Is Hide Away)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Wentworth or any of the characters, you know, the usual 'don't sue me' content.

** All We Do, All We Do (Is Hide Away) **

_All I did was fail today,_

_All I wanna be is whites and waves,_

_All I did was fail today,_

_All we do, all we do._

_“Last time I did that to be with the woman I love, the bitch had moved on. She’s screwing some skinny arsed scrag in fancy fucking clothes!”_

***

Bea moved purposefully toward H1, her eyes scanning the unit for the familiar face of the tattooed brunette. Liz and Boomer looked up as she walked in, and she wasted no time.

“Franky in?” she asked, pointing toward the only cell with the door closed.

“Yes, love, but why-“ Liz started but Bea cut her off with a dismissive wave and yanked the cell door open. She knew for a fact that Franky wasn’t engaged with Kim, that was for sure.

“The _fuck,_ Red!?” Franky threw her book down and jumped off her bed as Bea pulled the cell door closed behind her and leant up against it.

“What the fuck was that with Kim at the group session yesterday morning?”

Franky answered with a shrug, her eyes still ablaze at Bea throwing her door open and invading her privacy.

“I just passed Kim on the way back from laundry… did you have anything to do with her face?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Bea huffed as she shook her head. She needed to change tact.

“Okay, so what’s going on between you and Miss Westfall?”

_That_ certainly got a reaction. She watched as Franky tensed and became withdrawn, her shoulders hunched as she sniffed and drew her eyes down to the floor.

“ _Fuck,_ Franky,” Bea crossed her arms, “I fought bloody hard to get Miss Westfall here. Don’t you dare screw this up for the women because you can’t control yourself-“

Franky scoffed, her anger reignited.

“- you have _no_ idea-“

“-just like you couldn’t help yourself with Miss Davidson-“

“-nuh! This is nothing like that-“

“-what would the girls think, eh? What would they think if they found out you two were fucking or-“

“- _It’s not like that!_ ” Franky screamed, her voice overriding Bea and silencing her. Bea remained leaning against the door, inviting the brunette to explain.

“I…” Franky let out a growl of frustration and her hands sunk into the pockets of her hoodie as she remained hunched, “I _like_ her, yeah?”

Kim’s split lip and Franky’s sudden attitude change suddenly clicked in Bea’s mind and she bit back an incredulous laugh. Franky Doyle had fallen for the psych. _Well, shit_.

Bea had just unknowingly pole vaulted herself into a minefield, and now she needed to tread a whole lot more carefully.

“So,” she started, trying not to make the situation any more awkward than it needed to be but also needing to know if she was going to have any problems, “is she even… y’know.”

“A dyke like me?” Franky’s eyes lit up, as if remembering something particularly amusing, “yup.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked her of course, Red,” Her tongue came out and ran across her teeth and she smiled, “no-one can resist me, you know that.”

Bea gave a small smile in response, letting Franky deflect with her usual sexual bravado.

“And you bashed Kim because of what she said in the group session?”

“She was outta line,” Franky shrugged once more, “she starts shit like that, it ain’t me on the firing line, it’s Gidget.”

_Gidget,_ Bea mused silently, _interesting._ She knew the blonde psychologist insisted on people calling her Bridget, but so far no-one had taken her up on it. Franky, it seemed, had gone one step further and given her a nickname.

“Just be careful, okay? You might have shut Kim up but now the rumour is out there.”

“Nothin’ to be careful about,” Franky once more turned stand-offish, “she won’t even see me in-session anymore.”

“Because of Kim?”

“She says that’s the reason but…” Franky sighed, “truth is, I dropped a bombshell and now she’s quit on me, just like everyone else.”

“Franky-“

“-nuh. I get it. I’m used to it,” Franky threw herself onto her bed, leaning against the wall with her legs bent to rest her arms on them, “just thought she was different, s’all. I…”

She trailed off and Bea took a tentative step forward, intrigued.

“You what?”

“I _trusted_ her, Red,” Franky blinked back tears and huffed out a laugh, “pathetic, right? We’re told to open up and be honest… so I opened up to her and she cancelled all our sessions and cut me out. At the end of the day, she didn’t know what the fuck to do with me.”

She swiped at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, sniffing again.

“Trust is fucking overrated anyway, yeah?”

Bea nodded silently, unsure of how to handle an emotional Franky. She had dealt with angry Franky, scheming Franky, excited Franky, hell even _horny_ Franky, but she didn’t recognise this Franky in front of her. She’d never seen an emotionally raw Franky. _Guess you have Miss Westfall to thank for that,_ her mind supplied unhelpfully.

Franky seemed to understand Bea’s unsurety as she cleared her throat and gave a tight smile.

“Stop your fucking worrying Red, I dealt with Kim and the rumour will disappear soon enough, so you’ve got no problems to deal with from me. Go find Juice or some other bitch to annoy.”

“Yeah,” Bea responded slowly, an idea already forming in her mind, “okay. For what it’s worth, Franky, I’m sorry about you and Miss Westfall.”

Franky nodded and blew out a breath, her smile laced with the pain of fresh heartbreak.

“Fuck off, Red.”

***

Bridget looked over her schedule for the day, equal parts relieved and disappointed. Now that Franky was no longer booked in regularly with her, she had a spare hour before lunch, and the thought made her melancholy.

_“You push and you push for me to open up to you and now that I have you don’t know what the fuck to do with me.”_

_“I don’t want to see the other psych, I wanna see you.”_

She sighed and tilted her chin up, trying her best to avoid the onslaught of feelings that were bubbling just beneath the surface. It went against everything she would often tell her clients, but Bridget didn’t want to confront it all, not right then. And so she hid; behind her computer, behind her office door, and behind a lie.

_Rumours._

Letting go of Franky had been hard, but lying to her about the reason why, denying her feelings, that had hurt Bridget the most, and she knew it hurt Franky too.

A knock at the door startled Bridget from her thoughts and she wondered for a split-second if it was Franky standing on the other side, stubborn and angry.

“Come in!” She called out, and her hopes were dashed when a guard pushed the door open, with Bea hot on his heels.

“Bea,” Bridget stood up from her desk and moved toward the centre of the room with a smile, “what can I do for you?”

“I wondered if you had time to see me before lunch?” Bea looked uncomfortable, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “it’s important.”

“It just so happens I have some free time, sure,” Bridget gestured at the lime green chairs, “take a seat.”

Bridget nodded to the guard, who shut the door behind him, and she watched Bea drop down into the chair, a complete opposite to their first meeting. Bridget bit back a smile at the level of comfort Bea seemed to be exuding. It meant Bridget was doing her job right.

“So Bea,” Bridget sat down in the empty chair opposite, perching herself on the edge and crossing her legs, “how can I help?”

“We need to talk about Franky.”

_Shit._

A momentary flicker of panic passed over Bridget’s face before she schooled her features. Ever the professional.

“Happy to talk about what’s going on with _you,_ Bea,” she responded gently, “but I can’t talk about others, you know that.”

Bea watched Bridget like a hawk, her eyes narrowed in contemplation, and Bridget felt the slightest stirring of unease. She had certainly heard first-hand accounts from other women, but finally she was confronted with the esteemed Top Dog herself.

“Fine,” Bea bit out, her eyes flickering over to the corner of the room before returning levelly, “I have this friend, and she is sitting in her cell heartbroken over a shrink, and it’s making _my_ job a whole lot harder because she’s taking it out on the women.”

Bridget looked away, not giving Bea the satisfaction of a reaction.

“You see,” Bea continued, “this friend seems to be under the impression that this shrink can’t handle her. She thinks that she finally opened up and the shrink doesn’t want anything to do with her.”

“Bea-“

“-so I’d appreciate your _insight_ in to how I handle this situation, because I’m at a loss here.”

“I can’t-“

“- I was _hoping_ maybe by talking to the shrink, I’d get some answers but that’s clearly not going to happen. I can only _hope_ that the shrink goes to my friend and clears this whole fucking mess up.”

“I think we’re done here, Bea,” Bridget sighed, reclining in the chair.

“Good,” Bea stood up abruptly, nodding, “glad you could help, Miss Westfall.”

Bridget watched, torn, as Bea walked toward the door, turning the handle roughly. Just as she moved to open the door, she looked back.

“I need to go speak to Franky now, who is on lunch duty. _In the kitchen._ ”

With that last parting shot, Bea left the room.

Bridget stayed in the chair, staring off at the wall as she contemplated Bea’s words. Franky was sitting in her cell hurting because of her. Because she thought that Bridget didn’t want anything to do with her after the reveal of what happened to Meg Jackson. Franky really had no idea.

_Because you haven’t told her._

Bridget felt sick. If she told Franky the truth, that she had fallen so hard and fast for her that she had lost all control of the situation and didn’t know what to do, Franky’s fears would be assuaged but Bridget’s heart would be on the line. She’d be left vulnerable, and she could very well lose her job. However, if she continued the charade, she’d be doing more damage, causing more hurt. Franky would believe that opening up really was as pointless as she had always believed, and that she was a hopeless case.

Bridget was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.

Either she would hurt, or Franky would hurt.

When Bridget thought about it like that, it was no-brainer really.

She got up from her chair resolutely and looked at the time. Over an hour had passed, and Franky would be cleaning up after lunch.

Bridget walked resolutely toward her office door, ready to lay everything on the line.


End file.
